Nation
by Orsenna
Summary: A story for anyone whoever wished that Nation People existed.
1. I spy on Canada

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

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**Na-tion**

a large body of people, associated with a particular territory, **that is sufficiently conscious **of its unity to seek or to possess a government peculiarly its own:

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I like Hetalia.

Like a lot.

I guess the appeal lies for me in the idea personifying nations. In a sense, it's almost like summing up whole a group of people into one. These personifications... or Nation People if you will, can have moments of awesome... like America declaring his independence. Or they can crash and burn, kinda like a Russian jumping out of an airplane without a parachute.

No Russia, snow does not provide enough cushioning to soften the impact of falling from over 10 000 feet in the air.

I'm just saying.

Back to my point, this whole idea of having nations "personified" is brilliant. I mean really? You definitely have to give some credit to Hiramuya for coming up with it. Only thing is...

He didn't.

Wait! Wait! Before you scream mutiny and command your legions of yaoi-drawing-fanfiction-writing-fujoshi friends to come and attack me, hear me out!

Nation People do, in fact, exist. In other words, yes, hamburger-eating fail!heroes, lecherous Frenchmen, and psychotic Russians do live on the same Earth as you and I. That's right! It's not just in your perverted dreams...

_Or was that just me?_

Anyways! Before I start off with my tale, perhaps I should tell you a bit about myself. I know you're just dying to hear about a self-insert like myself. Yes, you know you all secretly like that.

Well, let's see: I am from... uh, what's that place's name again? I am a (hormonal) teenage girl and... I can be quite philosophical sometimes. Yup, that's about all you need to know (for now). Now that wasn't so bad was it?

... was it?

Now! Onto to the story (sorta):

One of the advantages of going to a Liberal Arts School is that no matter who you are, you can find a group to chill with. Being me, I ended up with anime-manga-yaoi-obsessed-blood-gore-sex-weird-visual art students ; all of whom have one or more of the above words apply to them.

So... there were a few of us who liked Hetalia.

A lot.

Our conversations would usually go something like this:

**Me:** _DIDJU GUIZ READ 'GIVING IN' LAST NIGHT?_

**Hetalia Friend #1: **_OMFG SO AMAZING... Russia...was like... _

**Hetalia Friend #2: **_-hyperventilating from fangasming-_

You get the picture.

Oh, yes, please forgive any shameless promotion of fanfictions I promote during the course of this story. Actually, scratch that, I'm doing all you authors a favour... now update.

Anyways! Getting back on track; this whole thing started when I was at Parliament Hill with my parents. For those of you who don't know (but should) what that is, the Parliament buildings are kinda where Canada's government is. It's these old(ish) buildings which are kind of pretty; they have green roofs and stuff... you know what? Screw that. Go Google it yourselves.

It was late July and a very, very humid night indeed in our delightful nation's capital... yes, there is such a thing as humidity in Canada. My parents and I were walking along this pathway, right along the cliffs which overlooked the Rideau river behind the Parliament Buildings. Being my adventurous self, I had wandered ahead of my parents to look at my favourite statues on Parliament Hill.

The Parliamentary Library loomed overhead of me as I left the path and started to cut across the parking lot in order to reach the Eastern Block more quickly; for you see, that was where my beloved statues lay. On grass again, I swerved through some trees and around the statue of Elizabeth II until I caught sight of my five lovely ladies.

"The Famous Five", if you don't know (but should), were these five bad-ass ladies who fought to get women recognised as "persons" in Canada. Nellie McClung, she's my personal favourite... and yet another thing you should google. Anyhow, these statues are just of them all sitting around, having tea, looking at official documents, and being generally bad-ass.

So, yeah, I was standing in the centre of those statues, ogling at them, and thinking my female-empowering thoughts when I noticed something rather... peculiar.

How should I describe this?

Well, not far off in the distance, there this guy leaning on a tree, talking on his cell; that was the normal part.

No, the weird part was the fucking miniature-sized polar bear beside him _that was standing on its' hind legs and pawing at the man's pants._

And that gravity-defying curl that kept bouncing up and down certainly couldn't be considered normal either.

So I was like:

"Gah... wha...? Ca... na... da? Real...? Wha...?"

The speed of my mental faculties at that moment became equivalent to that of a snail. Then everything sped up and my head was working in overdrive. Actually, no, the only part of me that working at all was my inner fangirl.

So, naturally, deciding not to observe the basic courtesies of personal space and privacy, I crept closer to the person who I thought was Canada, until I was in eavesdropping distance.

Like I said... _total_ respect for privacy.

His voice was unsurprisingly soft, however, it seemed to carry much further than one would expect. Much to my advantage.

He seemed to be very preoccupied with whoever he was talking to on the phone.

"Al... no... my birthday was two weeks ago."

A pause.

"No, I'm not mad at you! What would make you think that, eh? Just because you have repeatedly forgotten my birthday for the past 143 years, despite the fact that our birthdays are only a couple days a part... And, while we're on that subject, I don't want you sending me your recycled birthday cards anymore," ... "No, I do not care if it's good for the environment, Al! No one wants a birthday card with somebody else's name on it that's been scribbled out with Sharpie and then rewritten with their own name on it! It's thoughtless and rude and shows a complete disrespect for the person! Blah blah passive aggressive blah Canadian rage blah."

If there had been any previous doubts in my mind that this was Canada, they had been totally wiped away.

While Canada was berating who I now presumed was America, I was peering out from behind the statue of Nellie McClung while making inexplicable grasping motions at Canada with my hand; I think I must've looked like Belarus after seeing Russia come out of the shower naked. But could you blame me? I had just witnessed a passive aggressive rant of win! It was like... oh my god, you don't even know.

Then, something happened. To be specific, my parents happened.

"What are you doing -insert daughter's name here-? We're going!" My mom yelled. Did I mention she **yelled**?

Canada whipped around, stared at me, and somehow he knew. I think it's a telepathic thing that Nation People have with their citizens. Or maybe it was just because I was looked a little bit too much like suspicious pervert lurking around late at night. Either way, he knew.

"Al, I gotta go... yeah, I'll call you back." The cellphone flipped shut with a clack. Then was there silence.

And suddenly, a very serious Canada was coming towards me and Nellie McClung didn't look she was going to be able to protect me. I felt like that time I was seven and had purposely dialled 911 on a Bell Payphone to see what would happen; small and guilty.

So I did the exact same thing I did when I was younger: I ran.

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"Al? Yeah... we got another one."

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**Author's Note:**

Yes, I inserted myself into the Hetalia-verse. Please don't kill me! Instead, leave me reviews!

A big thank you to my beta, crackberries, for her help in making this less terrible than before.


	2. I consult my Plushie

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it.

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**Na-tion – Chapter 2**

******Chapter Summary:** _In which I consult my formerly cocaine addicted stuffed animal for advice._**  
**

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I'm not in terrible shape; yet, I had this feeling that if I was in a race with Canada he would totally kick my ass. Seriously, a lazy sixteen-year old girl who exercises sporadically versus the personification of Canada, who has been in more battles and hockey brawls than I care to count.

Yeah, let's be realistic here folks.

Racing away from my hiding spot, I sprinted towards my parents, hoping and praying I would not be mauled by a passive-**aggressive** Canadian. Gathering up my nerves, I stole a quick glance back over my shoulder: Canada was gone.

Holy crap, it was like Seven Little Killers all over again... what if he had Mr. Cleaver?

For those of you who don't know, Seven Little Killers is this awesome but scary fan-fiction where Nation People suddenly start being murdered.

And no one knows who the culprits are until very moment before they're killed.

So you can imagine why I was scared.

My survival instincts had kicked in... or rather the instincts that told me being beside Mommy was the safest place to be. To my parents, I probably just looked very, very eager to catch up with them; which, I suppose, was true in a sense. As I neared my mom, my facial expression must've resembled something between a look of pure terror mixed in with some strange manic grin; I probably looked like I orgasmed or something.

And of course, my mom had to comment on it.

Wait! Let me first say that mom does know about my obsession with Hetalia; when struggling for the appropriate name, she refers to it as: the manga show... with the countries.

"So why were you hiding behind Nellie McClung and staring that guy on the phone?"

I love you mom.

I struggled momentarily, trying to figure out a way to make myself look less like a creep, "Uh... he kinda looked like Canada from Hetalia... yeah... so I wanted to get a closer look?" I finished lamely. It totally didn't help that I was still grinning like an idiot. Of course, following common sense, I neglected to mention exactly know _how_ much he looked like Matthew Williams, or that he _was_ him. No, she didn't need to know that.

My mom just gave me the face all mothers seem to have the inherent ability to give. The one that says, 'I love you a lot but sometimes I think you need to change your hobbies.'

We left Parliament Hill and made our down Wellington street, which runs parallel to the Hill. I was constantly checking behind me to see if we were being followed. Then, my phone vibrated; an unusual occurrence for me. What? I'm not that popular okay? I thought it must've been a fanfiction updating or something; since I usually only receive e-mail alerts on my phone. I tugged the crappy Samsung out from my sweater and gazed at the screen intently, praying fervently for an update. Did I mention I'm a fanfiction whore?

Instead, I got a text from an unknown number.

But I knew who it was.

Glancing up ahead at my parents, I decided that it would probably be in the best interests of all parties involved if I just waited until I got home before I read... **The Text **in the event of me freaking out which I was already very close to doing. Notice how I used capitalisation and bold font to emphasize the gravity of the situation?

Jittery as hell, I caught up with my parents, who appeared to be having a very intellectually stimulating discussion about my mom's boss. Ah, perfect, I could lose myself in this generic conversation topic and definitely not think about the fact that Canada had probably gotten CSIS (Canadian equivalent of the FBI) to track my cell number down.

Never once during the whole trip home did my hand release it's grip on the Samsung.

_**From: **__Unknown Number_

_**Sent: **__Sun Jul 18 8:38 pm_

_Do you know we exist?_

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I could not, for the life of me, stop staring at that text message. Upon arriving at my house, I had barricaded myself in my room; not that this was unusual, since I spent such an unhealthy amount of in there. What was worrisome, however, was how long I had been staring at that the text message. It must've been a good hour by now.

Mentally kicking myself, my hands slowly regained their function as they slid the keyboard pad out on my phone. Thumbs positioned themselves, so that they would be at the ready to type my reply at any minute. Any minute now. They weren't moving. Damn thumbs.

Seriously though, I had no idea what the fuck to say. _"Oh, hey, nice to meet you Canada, I've read many a fanfiction that have had you in compromising positions with Prussia... or Russia... or Cuba..." _

Shit, what if the Canadian mafia attacked my house?

Yes, they exist!

No, no, they'd definitely send Russia, he likes torturing and beating the shit out of people after all. Maybe I could appease him with the miniature sunflower I had been attempting to grow. What if he didn't even like sunflowers? What if Hiramuya made that shit up to make Russia seem more friendly? Man, he definitely would be mad about the sunflower and then he would get put me in a stuffy closet with all the Baltics or something. I would be dead within minutes.

I then realised that perhaps my imagination was running a tad too wild. I needed to calm down. Discarding the now-sweaty cellphone onto my cluttered desk, I leaped onto to my bed and grabbed my favourite stuffed animal. He was always a good listener.

"Who?" You may ask. Well...

_Biography of Polo the Cat_

_Polo was born in De Putten, Netherlands, on April 19, 1998; little is known about his childhood. At the tender age of five, Polo joined Netherland's Men's National Waterpolo Team and garnered international attention as the first stuffed feline to do so; he was a terrible player, however, no one really paid attention to that fact; primarily because he was a stuffed animal that really shouldn't have been to do that kind of shit in the first place. In early September 2005, allegations of drug use were realised when Polo was caught snorting cocaine in the back-alleys of Amsterdam. Reputation tarnished, Polo was kicked off the team. After spending some time in and out of rehab, Polo finally managed to kick his habit. He then moved to Stowe, Vermont, where he reinvented himself as a yoga instructor. L. (which, by the way, is me) first met Polo at a yoga class where she offered him the coveted position of being her favourite stuffed plushie. Now best friends with L, Polo has made his permanent residence on L.'s bed in her Ottawa home and has never looked back since._

_Fin_

All that stuff seriously happened to him. Seriously.

No, it was not made up by me, where would you get such an absurd idea? Polo is as real as Flying Mint Bunny, damn it!

Settling down on my bed, I placed Polo gently on my lap and wrapped my arms around his squishy waist; Polo has quite a tummy, not that I judge him because of it.

"We've got quite situation on our hands."

"_Those bastards fuckin' exist? What kind of crazy-ass shit is that, yah?" _

I apologise in advance for Polo's potty-mouth, it's one habit he has yet to get rid of; on his bad days, he makes South Italy look like a choirboy.

"What the hell am I supposed to text back to Canada? Seriously, I'm still worried Russia will do strange things to me with his pipe." In case you hadn't noticed, I was really quite nervous.

"_No worries sistah, I have a plan that is so fucking amazing and brilliant ya don't even know, yah? All ya gotta do is be funny as hell and they'll leave ya the fuck alone." _

"Ah... comedy... that could work." I shot up, leaving Polo splayed haphazardly on the bed (I really take good care of him, don't I?) and strode over to my desk. I snatched up the Samsung and as fast as lightning my thumbs quickly typed a reply back to Canada. Every drop of wittiness and cleverness I possessed was poured into that text.

_**From: **__L_

_**Sent: **__Sun Jul 18 10:49 pm_

_Who?_

I fiddled with the phone for a few minutes, waiting for a reply to my text. Hopefully, Canada, being his polite Canadian self, would get my answer; as well as my light attempt at cliched humour. Of course, things could go awry and he could send...

"_Send the Russian and his pipe to deal with ya?" _

"Shut up Polo!" I yelled. Thank goodness my parents were used to hearing me talk to myself. Geez, Polo was obviously just sore about being abandoned on the bed. Stupid stuffed animal.

The Samsung rang.

I jumped, completely startled. Holy shit! I thought this was strictly a texting thing, I didn't know the relationship was now up to actual phone conversations! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I fumbled with the phone before finally managing to jab at the talk button.

"H-hello?" I stammered.

"You ran, eh? Then you made a terrible joke."

"... please don't send Russia after me."

A chuckle on the other end of the line. Oh good, I wasn't going to die right away.

"I'm sorry but we need to meet soon," he said.

I quite literally squawked, "L-look...Canada... oh god, that sounds so weird to say... anyways, look, yes, I really, really like Hetalia and it's cool n' all... but like I have decency and I can keep a secret... and... and... you really don't need to send CSIS (or Russia) after my family or anything, okay? Please...?"

Again another goddamn chuckle, "Calm down. Don't worry, eh? The webcomic Mr. Hiramuya made is actually one part of a larger pilot program."

I was slowly getting more curious, "... pilot program?"

"Yeah, the division of the United Nations that's devoted to the promotion and protection of Nation People is heading it; their main aim is trying to try to integrate Nation People into mainstream society," he paused, "But I can explain the rest of that tomorrow, eh? Any questions before I go?"

_So when I was reading about you and America doing explicit things to each other in various fanfictions... that was part of a pilot project?_

"Um, not at the moment..." Thankfully, I knew when to keep my mouth shut.

An awkward silence ensued which led to me to wonder if Canada had telepathic abilities.

A very flustered and embarrassed Canada broke the silence, "J-just... meet me at the main library tomorrow around 2, eh? We'll talk more there. See you then."

Click.

He totally could read my thoughts.

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**Next time:** _I apologise profusely to Canada, more is explained, and I eat my tuna sandwich._

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**Author's Note: **Reviews make me happy like Italy getting pasta!


	3. I visit the Library

**[IMPORTANT] Author's Note:** So here's the Beta'd Version of Chapter 3! Why are you getting notified of it when you've already read it? Well, I've changed some major things in this chapter so it's worth re-reading it. Or, at least, if you don't want to do that skip down to around the middle and re-read that. In any case, this will be last occasion I will be post unbeta'd chapters, since, it's kind of embarrassing to re-post a chapter! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

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**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. Never did.

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**Na-tion –**** Chapter 3**

**Chapter Summary: **_I meet a Nation Person, things become a little topsy-turvy, and I enjoy my tuna sandwich and chocolate milk._

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Have you ever done that thing? Where you stand in front of a mirror, in only your underwear, and grab your belly fat, hoping that it has been magically reduced overnight? Don't get me wrong, I'm at "a healthy weight", according to what my doctor tells me, but even I feel self-conscious about my body some days (see most days).

And, joys of joys: today was one of those days!

I think it might've had to do with the fact I was meeting the real life version of a sexy anthromorphic nation. If that wouldn't make you slightly nervous then you have balls of steel (metaphorically of course). Anyways, all the beautiful fanart of Canada I had seen on DeviantArt had come rushing back to me overnight and were now drowning me in their prettiness; hence, making me feel even more apprehensive about meeting him.

It was fucking vicious, man!

Besides, I hadn't really gotten a clear picture of what Canada actually looked like when I had first seen him. It had been late at night and my adrenaline had been at an all-time high.

I glanced at the clock... it was 1:30... and I still wasn't completely ready! Years of mediocre sleep patterns and a terrible tendency to get distracted by a manga, fanfiction or something, was definitely not helping me arrive on time.

It is a rare occurrence, that during the summer, I actually attempt to go to bed on time. However, after the previous night's events, I figured it would be to my advantage to try to get a good rest.

I couldn't sleep though, I was so scared and giddy that I kept tossing and turning in my bed. So, I figured it wouldn't be too bad if I read some fanfiction to calm my nerves. What I thought had been a Japan/America one-shot, turned out to be a multi-chaptered fic, which been really captivating... and, well, time flies really quickly when on the computer, right?

I hadn't gotten to bed till about 3:00.

Just before I fell asleep, I remember thinking it funny that what had been an escape from real life for me, was now, in fact, turning into reality. I don't think I read anymore Hetalia fanfiction after my initial meeting with Canada.

But enough of that!

I decided to forgo the shower and just wear the jeans from before and this really, funky yellow plaid sweater I had gotten for my birthday. I've always admired Canada's sense of fashion; casual and comfortable. Then again, I suspect that's how most Canadians dress; unless you're from Montreal, which is like the Canadian version of Paris.

Armed with my trusty bus pass and twenty dollars, I stepped out the front door... and, immediately, regretted my choice in clothing.

Humidity is such a bitch.

Seriously, I don't care how many fucking times I say this, summers in Ottawa are horrible. Oh, it doesn't matter what the temperature is... nope, because if it's super humid everyday like it is in Ottawa, you sweat like a pig.

Wait, do pigs even sweat?

Nevermind that.

I was caught between dashing out the front door and dashing back up to my bedroom to change. But being the polite Canadian I was, I decided to just go and deal with the sweaty-stick later.

Canada was over an hour late.

And I was beginning to think that maybe I should be giving Hiramuya a little more credit. After all, hadn't there multiple occasions in the Hetalia strips where Canada had been late?

On the corner of Metcalfe and Laurier, in the awkwardly-shaped, concrete building that is the main library, I sat in the little cafe, nestled away from the busy chaos of the first floor. Chomping away at my tuna sandwich and sipping my chocolate milk, I perused an old book about the early Communist movement in Canada, while waiting for that particular Nation to arrive.

This is actually how I spend a lot my time.

Cool, I know.

I love the Main Library because, unlike the other branches, it has more character... and more books... You see people from all walks of life there; homeless guys coming in and taking a nap, plump women in their thirties taking out some book on how to start a business from home, or even those sketchy foreign guys watching porn!

Okay, so I totally botched that description but just believe me when I say it was a cool place.

I glanced up from my book and glanced around the library. There was still no sign of Canada. Maybe he was already here and I just didn't notice him? Oh god, if that happened, I'd be so embarrassed! I mean not being able to see your own Nation? Just... ugh. Then again, I _had_ been able to recognise him last night so that couldn't be it.

Suddenly, harried footsteps were heard; I knew it was him.

Oh dear, Canada was now standing in front of me, panting lightly, as if he had just run here. Of course, I hadn't looked at him yet on account of the fact I was scared enough to shit a brick.

Yes, even if it was Canada, I was that scared.

"Um... hi." he whispered.

Oh no, here came the awkward introductions.

I sort of looked at him then; actually, I sort of gawked. All I can say about his appearance was that he looked pretty attractive, a lot like the pictures that Hiramuya drew but more, you know, realistic and three-dimensional.

Well, this certainly felt uncomfortable.

Luckily, my drama training kicked in and the floodgates opened.

"Oh my god, it's so awesome to meet Matt- I mean Mr. Canada... dude, you know what? That's too formal, uh... uhm, Canada? Mr. Williams? Williams? William? will.?"

Canada blinked.

"Uhhh, you know the guy from the Black Eyed Peas...? Oh well. I used to like them... they were cool and stuff. But I totally like some Canadian bands too! Not just American! Like Feist and Great Big Sea .. I love them too! Anyways, I guess you know who I am... hahaha."

_Because you tracked down my cellphone number and all my other personal information._

Nervous laughter ensued.

Canada laughed quietly, "Relax, I won't do anything," he glanced at my table, "Um, you might want to pick up your chair and book..."

In my nervousness, I had knocked my chair over as I was getting up.

Fucking perfect.

I picked it up slowly and returned my chair to it's previous position and resumed my gawking.

Canada looked just as nervous as I did.

"M-maybe we should find somewhere private to talk, eh?" Canada gestured towards the third floor. I nodded furiously, jittering from my nerves.

* * *

"Why are we in the children's section?" I asked, intending to use sarcasm which instead came out as timidness instead.

Canada and I were seated in the children's section, hunched over a small red plastic play table on two smaller yellow plastic chairs that looked like they were designed for infants five and under_. _Crayons, colouring books, and various toys were littered around , we were also surrounded by a bunch of snotty three and four year-olds reading picture books.

It could've just have been me, but it didn't seem like the most ideal location.

"I wanted to see if they still had _The Hockey Sweater," _he whispered a little sheepishly. I paused. That book sounded terribly familiar, something from my childhood, like when I was six or something but I couldn't quite remember...

Canada must have seen the pensive look on my face, "_Nous vivions en trois lieux: l'école, l'église et la patinoire; mais la vraie vie était sur la patinoire." _Canada prompted.

I jumped from my chair, knocking it over once again, in my excitement at recognising the story that basically every Canadian kid should have read. Somehow, my questionable French had been enough to remember that one particular line... something about how we lived in school, home, and at...was it church? But the real life was on the ice.

I was really getting enthusiastic about this, "Oh! Oh! The story about the kid whose _Montreal Canadiens _sweater gets totalled or something and then his mother accidentally orders him a new Toronto Maple Leafs one?"

Hey, maybe getting the book for Canada would kill the goddamn awkwardness!

Dashing over to the nearest bookshelf and knocking over one or two kids in the process, I started looking for it. Within minutes I had managed to retrieve the book and headed back over to Canada, who was really beginning to look quite out of place.

"Found it!" I announced rather loudly, slamming it down in front of Canada, who jumped a little. In my bout of enthusiastic book-searching, I had forgotten to be self-conscious.

"You really didn't have to go to all that trouble." Canada whispered. Nonetheless, he picked it up and flipped through the pages excitedly. I grinned. Man! I was so happy that the tension had slowly started to fade away.

"Yeah, I remember some guy coming to our school and reading that to us when I was like six or seven years old. I don't really like hockey that much but that is seriously an awesome book."

I paused and thought about what I just said.

And the tension returns.

Canada was looking at me; no, he was intensely staring at me. Looking down to avoid his gaze, I started rambling again, "Well, it's not my thing... then again, I've never really played it so maybe I just don't enjoy watching it?" I said, avoiding his gaze. "I mean... I'm that way for a lot of sports so... yeah." I was scrambling for a way out of the hole I'd dug.

It was then that inspiration hit me like a ray of sunshine bursting through the dark clouds after a long thunderstorm.

"But I _do _like curling."

For those of you who don't know (shame on you!), curling is the _other _national sport of Canada. What do you do? Well, you throw 42 lbs. granite stones down a sheet of ice, hoping to score points by landing your stones in the _house, _or in other words, a circular target marked on the other end of the ice sheet.

We learned it from Uncle Scotland, folks.

At the mention of curling, Canada's entire disposition seemed to brighten and he leaned forward with interest, which I took as a signal to continue.

"Uh, I used to play in a league two or three years ago... I even became fairly good. It was pretty fun, you know? Drinking hot chocolate and eating popcorn afterwards with the other kids and stuff." I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe I'll even join the school team this year."

My plan in distracting Canada from my dislike of hockey had been a success.

What a relief.

He sighed wearily before responding, "At least you're interest in it, eh? Getting Al to watch hockey with me is one thing... but curling? No way. He whines and complains about it being boring._ 'Mattie, that's sooo lame! Why would anyone want to watch a sport where people throw rocks on ice_? _It's stupider than lawn bowling!_'" Canada wailed, doing an impression of his brother that was scarily accurate.

I snorted. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

As much fun as it would be to continue this conversation, I realised we had gotten completely distracted. Trust me when I say it isn't a stereotype that we Canadians have a tendency to get sidetracked very easily.

Kumajirou's eye-whisker-thingies, anyone?

"Um... Mr. Williams? Shouldn't we, y'know... be discussing '_The Thing_'?" I had always found air quotations were very subtle method of conveying my message.

And before I knew it, I had a very flustered, apologetic, and rambling Canadian on my hands. It was quite a spectacle... a very adorable spectacle. Oh god, I wanted to pinch to his cheeks~! Holy shit, I kind of sounded like Spain.

But we digress.

"Sorry! It's all my fault!" I was frantically waving hands, "I shouldn't have gotten distracted!"

"No! No! I-I should have stayed on task... sorry, I know what we're supposed to be talking about but I still got sidetracked. Oh god, I really should learn to concentrate more... sorry." Canada said, as he looked aghast.

It was at this point I had what I call an _obvious epiphany_. For those of you who are confused by this strange combination of words, think of it this way:

You're walking to school or anywhere for that matter, when you arrive at an intersection.

Of course, you, as the pedestrian have the right of way but, oh no, today, today, _you're going to be polite_!

There's a car patiently waiting for you to cross but you don't, instead, you make sweeping gestures with your arm indicating that it's totally okay if they go first. **This is your good deed of the day after all!** Anyways, you keep insisting that the car _really ought to go ahead before you _but, unfortunately, the driver is doing the exact same goddamn thing as you are. And, hopefully, it is at this point, you realise the fruitlessness of the argument and just cross the street like you were originally supposed to.

And that was point I had reached; for you see, I, in my awesomeness, had predicated the terrible path of self-deprecation and never-ending apologies which loomed ahead of me if I continued this futile debate with Canada as to who was more liable for getting us off track.

The irony being the argument would accomplish the same thing.

I interrupted Canada's apologetic ramble, "S-so what was this about a U.N. Program...?"

Suspiciously enough, Canada pouted a little when I put a stop to our apologetic banter; he clearly didn't get to do this often.

Nonetheless, he began.

* * *

A pamphlet slid towards me from across the table, it had a picture of what appeared to be a bunch of the Nations smiling and playing with a group of small children of various different ethnicities.

"Make sure you read that when you get home, eh?"

I nodded absentmindedly, somewhat fascinated by the glossy image where a serious-faced Germany appeared to be swinging around a small little girl.

Canada cleared his throat, getting my attention, before he started to speak.

"As you know, Mr. Hidekaz Hiramuya is the creator of the webcomic Hetalia Axis Powers. In late 2005, the United Nations Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights convened to discuss an experimental project that would help promote the existence of Nation People to the general public." He had obviously given this speech before. "Mr. Japan was the one who suggested to the committee we attempt using mangaas a tentative first step for the project; while manga is a fairly popular medium around the world outside of Japan, it is still relatively underground, therefore, we could ensure the rise in popularity of Hetalia Axis Powers was only to a small demographic of the population. Furthermore, all fans of Hetalia still think this is completely fictional, so this is the second step where we're testing out; seeing if it's a good idea to reveal our existences to those outside of our government."

Canada breathed out, obviously relieved to have finished that long-ass speech.

"So... let me get this straight," I start slowly, trying to process what Canada has just said, "The entire Hetalia fandom is part of an experiment?"

"Pretty much."

Frowning, I asked, "And... what's my role in this?"

"Well, I'm going to interview you, see if you're fit the requirements, and if you do..." Canada leaned in closer, smiling mischievously, "Well, you get to come New York City for a week and spend it at U.N. Headquarters with us."

Now, it's important to clarify that in the next thirty seconds of that statement, I did not stand up screaming in delight, knocking over my chair yet again. Nor did I garner the attention of all the little snotty-nosed brats in the Children's section. And the librarian certainly did not ask me to calm down or else I would be escorted off the premises.

None of that happened.

Seriously.

So it was a complete mystery to me why Canada was blushing so furiously.

* * *

"S-so, I need to interview you, eh?" Canada looked like he was expecting me to freak out. "Just to make sure you're suitable candidate."

"Okay," I shifted, making myself as comfortable as I could in a tiny plastic, red chair.

"So when did you first come to know of Hetalia?"

"Hard to say..." I paused. "Must've been around last November, just when I was getting out of the One Piece fandom. We started watching the little five minute episodes at the end of anime club. I didn't really get into it until March though..."

"So it hasn't been too long then, has it?" Canada said, as he started make notes, "Anyone else at your school who really likes it?"

"Uh..." I stared at him intently, as a little kid flew past us using a book as an airplane. I wasn't quite sure how to answer the question. See, my friends who like Hetalia... well, _they really, really like it_. Since Canada seemed to be writing everything that I said, it probably wasn't the best idea to let him how much they liked Hetalia. "Uh, yeah, a few of them... hahaha..."

_Including one who would probably jump off a cliff for you._

Canada made more notes.

"So," Canada glanced down at the papers in front of him,"Who is your favourite character that has made a canonical appearance so far?"

"Belarus," I responded immediately.

He looked a little concerned for my mental health, "And why Ms. Belarus in particular...?"

"Anyone who has the capacity to frighten Russia into a quivering mass and look very attractive while doing it has earned my respect and adoration." The question of whether or not Belarus was actually like that burned on the tip of my tongue but I refrained from asking. "Oh, I also really like her voice actress because of the vocal range she has," I added as a side-note.

I waited for the next question but soon noticed it wasn't coming.

Canada was blushing and muttering something along the lines of "Stupid hoser, putting this question on the survey when it's absolutely unnecessary..."

I cleared my throat a little to get his attention; Canada fidgeted.

"W-what's your f-favourite pairing?" he stuttered out.

Suddenly, the kid who was pretending the book was an airplane was really interesting. "Do I _really _have to answer that?" I murmured. The kid was now making lewd gestures with the book at a little girl. Wait, wasn't he only four?

Canada sighed, "Al made me put it on. He wanted to see how many people he was paired with..."

... My already low opinion of America just sunk even further.

"Um... don't be freaked out, okay?" I took a deep breath. "It's you with Prussia."

Canada was a terrible interviewer, "I-it's platonic! He just likes maple syrup a lot a-and comes and bugs me for it..." he trailed off awkwardly.

I was suppressed my glee at Canada's awkward refusal, I was pretty sure he was telling the truth. But his reaction was so cute... ah, there I go sounding like Spain again.

I swallowed my internal fangirl and attempted empathy, "This... this is pretty awkward for you, isn't it?"

Canada looked at me with a serious face, "Tell me how you would feel if someone paired you off with one of your friends, eh?"

"I'm sorry... I mean, up until yesterday, I didn't even know you guys were real... l-like I knew Canada, as the country existed but not the personification." I ducked my head as I replied.

I was somewhat at a loss for what to say next since I was too busy feeling guilty over the fact I shipped PruCan, yet also feeling somewhat irritated at Canada for berating me for something that wasn't my fault.

Canada smiled tightly, "It's fine, eh?"

No, it wasn't.

But the interview continued nonetheless; Canada asked questions ranging to from what my political affiliations were (yes, I have those) to how aware I was of current world issues. All the while diplomatically avoiding the subject of the "international relations" (see: _pairings_) of other nations.

Which was really too damn bad, since I rarely had the opportunity to share my sentiments about American foreign policy with others.

One obvious question that I should've seen coming caught me off guard, "How much Canadian history do you know?"

"Let's put it this way, I know the basic dates and locations." Massaging my forehead, I sighed, "But as soon as we get into specifics, I'm more than likely to make a fool of myself."

Well, I botched that question.

"Don't worry about it too much, eh?" Canada smiled kindly. "Instead, why don't you tell me one piece of Canadian history that is to you?" It was then that I wondered why so Nations seemed to overlook Canada, especially when he was this nice.

Feeling a little reassured, I told Canada the story of how women came to be recognised as "persons".

But that's a story another time.

* * *

By the time we finished, it was nearing dusk and I had to leave soon.

"Okay, we're almost done here, I just need you to fill in this sheet..." Canada looked apologetic.

Clearly, we shared a mutual hatred of filling in paperwork, though he probably had to do substantially more than me.

I glanced over the sheet quickly; it was kind of like a questionnaire, nothing particularly interesting,

almost a basic repeat of the questions Canada had asked. I'm guessing it was just something they could keep on record for future reference. However, the question at the bottom did catch my attention:

_Please list the four Nation Persons you would like to meet: _

_**Note: **__Please note that the existence Nation Persons extends beyond just the ones you have __seen in the web-comic, anime, and manga of Axis Powers Hetalia._

I leered at the paper before finally putting my answers. What? You thought I would tell you whoI put down?

Nope, sorry, you'll just have to wait to find out... I'm a mean self-insert like that.

I handed the paper back to Canada and slowly got up to stretch.

"Sorry, I have to get going... the dog needs to be walked and the dishes need to be cleaned, parents need to be made aware of my location." I said as my shoulder cracked.

Canada scratched his head sheepishly, "Yeah, I suppose Nanook is getting hungry by now."

I blinked.

"Who?"

Canada's face darkened... until he realised that I wasn't actually referring to him. Geez, he must really must get that jibe too much.

"... I guess that would be Kumajirou for you then, eh?"

Oh.

"Bu-"

"Hetalia is a _Japanese _webcomic, manga and anime_, _right?"

I nodded dumbly.

"So, even if the fans are from all around the world now, Hetalia's predominant focus was on a Japanese audience at first, right?"

Another nod.

"And the word _kuma _is the Japanese equivalent for bear. The only reason he was given that name is to make it the content more suitable for a Japanese audiences. I like Mr. Japan a lot but not enough to name my bear after one of his words," he blushed a little. "Besides, I've known Nanuq for far longer..."

Okay, so apparently Canada still mispronounced his name.

I shifted a little, "So what does Nanook (Nanuq?) mean anyways?"

He laughed (Canada can do that?) and said, "Do a little research on Inuit mythology tonight, eh?"

"Okay, will do." Glancing out the window, I noticed the sun was getting pretty low,"I really should get going now..."

Canada gave an understanding nod and stood up.

"You'll hear from us in a few weeks as to whether or not you've qualified. Until then, please keep quiet about this." Was it just me or did that come across a little threateningly? "A-anyways, i-it was a pleasure to meet you, eh."

Then I did what I had been wanting to do since I met Canada.

I swooped in and gave him a big hug.

At least if I didn't qualify, I could take pride in the fact that I hugged the personification of my nation.

Stepping back, I finally gushed, "Oh my god... it was totally awesome to meet you! Just... gah! Like... just keep being you and yeah... Thanks for being my country and stuff! Okay, I gotta go, bye!"

And with a final frantic wave, I dashed out of the Children's section, leaving one very confounded Canada behind.

* * *

It wasn't until early August that I got a letter in the mail.

* * *

**Next time: **_It's hard to keep my big mouth shut sometimes..._

* * *

**Author's Note: **A big thanks to my beta crackberries! She made this much less terrible than it originally was... sorry, for my overuse of ellipses.

Reviews make me happy like Canada getting his maple syrup (and none of that Aunt Jemima crap)!


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